The Assassin's Son
by Warcry
Summary: The sequel to my first story, "The Assassin's Tale". Thank for reading and reviewing! This is my second ever written fiction work. It's based on Dungeons & Dragons in as far as magic and theme, but a world I've created myself as a DM. "R" for violence.
1. Default Chapter

**The Assassin's Son**

**Author's Note**

_It has been mentioned by a few of my readers, both in the reviews and outside of them, that the world of Havorra, the world I have created for my D&D campaign, some 15 years old or so, should be better explained._

_As such, I'd like to give you, dear reader, a brief introduction. If you haven't had a chance to read my "Introduction to Havorra", please do, for you may find it a useful backdrop and explanation to the world of the Shadow Spinner._

_Thank you,_

_- Warcry_

**Prelude**

"Page one." You were right, Grandfather, not such a good place to start a story. But a start none-the-less.

It's been some fifteen winters or more since that day. My, how the time goes by…

I don't remember much about my early childhood, but I remember that day, and nearly every day after that. For that day was "page one" in my life.

It was the day my last living relative was killed by a former Knight of Heironeous, pent upon vengeance for committing what has become legend: "The Fall of the Kingdom of Sharapuur."

What I do remember as a boy, was that I had always wanted to be a Knight. I wanted to wear shining armor, slay the Dragon, wed the Princess. Apparently, so too, did my Grandfather.

Who says Knights always have to wear armor?

Who says they have to always ride a horse, and carry a lance and shield?

Not that it does much good to argue about it now, at any rate, seeing as how those Knights all fell to a man who didn't do any of those things anyway. Grandfather was right about that, too.

"…It matters little who owned something first, and matters much who is left standing in the end to claim ownership after the dust settles…"

How proud I was all of a sudden! My Grandfather, the one who slew all of the Knights of the Golden Serpent! And all because they tried to steal his namesake, the Assassin's Guild tattoo, it's herald, it's calling card. How dare they believe they had wiped out my Grandfather's guild!

"..never, ever, assume that your enemy has fled the battlefield just because you brought in reinforcements and can no longer locate them…"

Grandfather was right. Though I believe he may have forgotten that credo by letting Otto go. Then again, maybe not… maybe Grandfather left him alone as a reminder… one not to ever forget. I shall not, my Grandfather, I shall not.

It was spring. With my parents dead and gone, now, as I think on it, possibly killed by the same man who killed my Grandfather, I was alone. Well, not truly alone, as I had met my faithful companion, Kooraw, but truly alone as far as family was concerned.

I had learned so much in such a small amount of time with my Grandfather. I buried the Knight in a shallow grave out back after stripping him clean of anything useful.

For Grandfather, it was different. For him, I lit the sacred pyre so much like that we had burned my parents upon when I was but a small boy. I put the coins on his eyes to pay Nerull, the boatman, on his way across after taking the entire day to wash his body, dress him in his finest clothes, carefully drag him atop the pyre, and set him alight. His fire shone throughout the night, with only myself and the Raven to bear witness.

I was only ten winters old. But by then, I had already seen so much. I had already drawn my first blood, and a former Knight at that! It was that day, "page one", that would define the rest of my life.

For it was as the Raven had said, I was now "he", the one. The last Golden Serpent Assassin, and I must prove myself to be the greatest Assassin in all the Realms, so much like my Grandfather had been. If not for me, then for all the Assassins who came before me, and for my parents, who I learned later had been cut down for their heritage as well…


	2. Chapter One, Winter

**Chapter One, Winter:**

Living out the fall alone, with only Kooraw to keep me company, I practiced everything Grandfather had taught me, over and over, until I had memorized every possible detail, every move, every poison, everything.

I practiced throwing daggers, striking at men-sized logs in all the right places, just as Grandfather had taught me, and honing my hunting skills. During the long hours of winter, I discovered things around the house that my Grandfather had never spoken of. After finding his personal library in his room, I spent the long winter tearing apart the house looking for anything to read.

What an amazing assortment of history did I find therein! Books and journals, notes and objects, a lifetime of an Assassin's tools and trade. The things I found under the floorboard would chill the blood of a normal man, and the objects I found in the rafters would chill the blood of any being with enough thought to fear it's own demise…

But the most amazing things, in my opinion, were of the simple sort. The things that defined my Grandfather as a person, rather than as a Shadow-Spinner. My Grandfather's devotion to wood carving was unmatched by anyone I have met since. His room and study were literally filled with carvings of Ravens, Weasels, Snakes, and Lizards. Many of them named, and described in his notes. Particularly the poisonous varieties, of course.

Spring was rather late in coming, and by then, I had created quite a stockpile of herbs, poisons, healing potions, and antidotes. I can honestly say now that there must have been enough poison and antidotes in that house to poison an entire army of men and bring them all back from the brink of death in the same day!

If only I had some of those Golden Serpent scales now… ah, bliss, those memories of the past…


	3. Chapter Two, New Work

**Chapter Two, New Work**

"Kooraw!" "Do you remember where I put the fang dagger I found in the attic?" I asked my sole companion, searching through the small house to no avail.

"In the kitchen, boy, why it's there, only you know." Kooraw replied. "Such a loud one, too, you are. It's a wonder to me how your name came to be _Umbra_, man-child. You do know the meaning of the word, do you not?." Kooraw continued in his usually ruffled-feather-grumpy sort of griping.

"I think the cold has started to play on your nerves, because you whine a lot for a bird." I said to him with a doting smile as I found the dagger lying atop the table where I had left it. "Koo-raw!" was all he had to saw to that, which meant he was indeed going to sulk for at least another half hour by my best estimation based on previous encounters with his winter-born sulking. "If only there were some fresh berries.." I heard him mutter to himself while he preened his feathers for the fourth time that day.

"The winter is long, indeed, but it is almost over, and we shall go out and have some fun soon!" I declared, and this seemed to brighten him a bit. "And besides, I can be quiet when I _want_ to." I stated, matter-of-fact.

"We shall see, we shall see, I bet you can't hide from me…" was all Kooraw had to say to this. "Oh ho! A challenge, aye? Well, we'll just have to see what the Shadows have to say." I stated, matching his rhyme without missing a beat, rather cryptically.

"Bah! You're eleven-winters too soon! Too soon! The Shades don't talk much less walk until you've paid their due." Kooraw said, catching me in my bluff.

"Well, according to Grandfather's books, I should get the opportunity to do that easily enough come spring." I said with a grin.

"Indeed, indeed, the Shadow's seed, coming out to play! But will he pay? Will he pay?" Kooraw said questioningly.

"Indeed, indeed, my eye in the sky, I shall pay my way, you rhyming scrye." I said with a chuckle and a small jab at Kooraw's use of the common tongue.

"Though we shall have to find the ones who look for our kind of work, and I don't believe it will be around here…" I continued, knowing full well even at only eleven winters old that the work of an inexperienced, mostly untrained, assassin might be hard to find the first time out.

I also knew that my kind of new-found work would only be welcome in the larger cities, west of where I lived in almost complete isolation in the Ironwood forests now. Possibly Drakeleaf, the capital of Wyrmnom, or IronWood, it's sister-city on the coast, would welcome me. We would see, indeed…


	4. Chapter Three, Second Burial

**Chapter Three, Second Burial**

Upon my first trip to town that spring, I learned how to lie. "Where is your Grandfather?" was the first question out of every merchant's mouth, suspicious that such a seemingly young boy had driven the horse and wagon all the way to town on his own.

"He's testing me, I'm supposed to pick up some new supplies and be home before dark." I found that these sorts of simple lies came easily to my lips, but that the lingering pain of my Grandfather's loss still stung down deep.

"Well then! Let's get you loaded and back on your way!" they would all say. And so, I filled my wagon with goods, and traded in a few of the minor healing potions I had brewed over the winter, as well as a few antidotes of the local snake-bites. They all assumed my Grandfather had made them, of course. But how proud I was to have fooled them all!

After getting a large, and rather expensive, air-tight metal chest and key, I turned back around and made it home from town just before dark. All of this, and not a single bandit to try out my new skills on! How Grandfather had managed to find the quietest place on Havorra, I'll still never know. Of course, it was probably full of bandits before he arrived… but no one ever mentioned it to me!

The very next day, I put together all of my Grandfather's effects. His notes, his journals, his every item, and carefully packed them into the metal chest. After I dug a huge hole and put it down in there, of course, for I knew I was too small to move the chest once it was full.

After I had finished, I sealed the chest with the key and some candle wax, and buried it in the fertile soil out back, ten paces behind my Grandfather's favorite tree. This was, in a way, a second burial, and it brought the memory of my Grandfather back in full force. I held back my tears, and reminded myself that I must do his memory proud, die trying, or both.

Kooraw watched all this with his beady black eyes and surprisingly didn't say a word.

How empty the house was then! Except for the livestock, the personal effects I had decided to keep, including several of my favorite poisons and antidotes, as well as the daggers and other more dangerous assortment of items I had found within the house, there was nothing left but furniture.

The next week, I traded the livestock to the neighbors for a promise to keep an eye on the house, which meant I had to explain my Grandfather's death, and lied that I was going to Drakeleaf to live with a cousin who had sent word for me. They easily believed this lie, fed me, and sent me on my way.

I covered the furniture after boarding the place up and locking the doors, then buried the keys near the chest in a small box, and set out for the road and certain adventure!

It wasn't long before adventure found me, riding in the wagon with Kooraw on my shoulder in my newly purchased Black and Grey cloak, hat, and boots, away from the only town I had ever known.


	5. Chapter Four, The Golden Serpent

**Chapter Four, The Golden Serpent**

Up until the day I met Burnlou, I thought that the Golden Serpent tattoo on my arm was merely a magical family heirloom. Something that transferred from father to son, or grandfather to son, as in my case. Or possibly from daughter to mother, etc., though I haven't experienced that theory first hand, merely as a symbol of the Assassin's guild.

At any rate, I was in for many surprises, it would seem. For a few hours outside of town, as far west as I had ever been in my life, the tattoo started to itch. Not only that, but every time I looked at it, it seemed like the serpent had _moved_! I couldn't be for sure, as I didn't dwell on it much over the winter, being that I was a bit preoccupied with all of my Grandfather's effects, but now I could _swear _it was in a different position on my arm, though in the same general spot.

While I was pondering this thought, and trying to drive the wagon with my tattooed arm and scratch with the other, I looked up and found myself in trouble for the second time in my life.

A highwayman had positioned himself in the middle of the road, right in front of my wagon's path.

He was seemingly alone. Dressed in rather fine clothes, with a purple cloak, a garish purple hat, and a rather large purple feather in that hat. His embroidered gloves reminded me of the nobles I had seen once in a town fair as a child, and his horse was a very fast looking brown stallion, possibly with the fabled Wyrmnom blood in it's veins, for it was very large!

"Hail there boy! And well met! Stop your wagon and talk for a while!" he called to from ahead. Being that there was not much room at this particular point in the road, no doubt part of his ambush, I had little choice but to stop. But not before I looked about for sentries or other friends of this man.

I looked around, and not seeing anyone else, I stopped the wagon as far away from him as I could, forcing him to come to me. Proud of myself for setting him a bit off-guard, I boldly said, "And who would be the man to rob a poor innocent child on his way alone to see is distant kin after his family has died?" I asked, trying to shame him into leaving me alone. At this point, Kooraw flew off my shoulder and away into the woods, bringing a surprised look from the man.

"_Two more, one right, one left, both have longbows and longswords." _Kooraw so kindly informed me. _"Excellent, mayhap we'll get to test my skills today for the first time." _I thought back.

"What manner is this?! The highwayman said. "A boy with a bird, out in the woods alone? Going home to see distant kin after your family has died? Indeed." he said. "More like a petulant nobleman's child out for a joy ride in the cooks wagon!" he chuckled. "For your clothes belie a finery no "poor child" could afford." the astute man observed. "And I have never met a commoner with a trained Raven." he said, riding closer.

"Hest, Rogosh! Come out! It's just a mere boy!" the highwayman yelled to his companions, chuckling to himself. "Now, my boy, I trust you can afford to pay my toll…" the highwayman said to me as his companions put away their longbows and began walking toward the wagon from both sides.

"And how much would that be?" I said, standing up in the wagon platform, setting the break and tying off the reins, pretending to look inside my coat for my money pouch.

"But before I pay… what do you call yourself?" I asked him, staring him in the face.

The highwayman took it all in stride, riding up just before my horse, and said, "Some call me Burnlou. Why do you ask?"

"Because," I said, "an Assassin always makes it a point to know who's he's about to kill!" And with that, I sprang into action, much to the astonished men on either side of my wagon, looking on in surprise a the daggers suddenly flying toward them!

They didn't stand a chance! How bold I was, indeed! Young, stupid, and full of unrequited vengeance at the death of my Grandfather. How much I wanted to scream out at the world, to prove to it that my lineage was not dead, far from it!

A bold move, and one that would have been my death had the men been prepared. But being that they underestimated me, a seemingly noble brat out on a joy ride, they never got time to draw the weapons they should have had out. My youth disguised me, and not for the last time in my life, saved me against all odds.

For my aim was true, and both of my poisoned blades flew toward their mark. One, possibly "Hest", took my dagger full on in the neck. So surprised was he that no attempt to block it was made, and he died holding the gash in his throat.

The other, who must have been "Rogosh", was a bit faster, but it did not save him. For though he blocked the dagger with his hand, it penetrated his palm, and I knew that he would die before taking two steps.

Which is, after all, what the poison is named; "Two-Steps." I've heard some fools try to drink the stuff in taverns throughout the realm, and after drinking it and taking two steps, they die. This is what happened to Rogosh, as he came at me, fear and shock on his face, he held the dagger away from him, staring at it in horror as he died.

That left Burnlou, staring at me on his horse, amazed at what I had just done. He quickly recovered though, his face suddenly full of malice and anger at me that I had so easily just slain his two friends. "You'll pay for that, whelp!" he yelled as he rode up beside me, trying to pull me from the wagon.

This, of course, turned out to be his last mistake. Not because I managed to get another dagger out of my coat before grabbed ahold of me, but because he grabbed me by my right arm as I tried to twist away from him.

Because the tattoo had been itching, I had rolled up my sleeve to scratch it, which meant it was right above Burnlou's hand.

Then, it did something amazing. The Golden Serpent on my arm _bit him!_

The snake writhed and twisted, as though coming alive, and in his growing horror, Burnlou could only stare at it in rapt amazement as it rose up out of my arm and struck! Biting him right in the hand.

Burnlou recoiled at the pain, letting me go, and stared at the fresh wound on the back of his left hand. Then, in dawning understanding at the imminence of his mortality, Burnlou looked at me and said with his dying breath, "The Golden Serpent Lives!"

At that, he died on his horse, his eyes wide open, still in shock, and fell from his mount with a thud, staining his fine purple clothes in the mud.


	6. Chapter Five, The Price

**Chapter Five, The Price**

'Do that thrice, and you've paid the price! Indeed! Indeed! The Shadow's Seed! The Assassin's Son, you're the one!" Kooraw preened, screeching at me from his perch atop the nearest pine tree.

I could only shake my head in wonderment at the whole affair that had just happened in a few seconds time. Looking down at my now quiet tattoo, I began to ponder the nature of my heritage, and what it would mean to live the life of an "Assassin's Son."

Grandfather's books said _nothing_ about a living tattoo! Among many other things, they just said that I had to Assassinate three "unworthy opponents", or something to that effect, before I could begin to understand the nature of shadows.

"Well, no sense in wasting any time. Guess I should tie his fine looking horse to the wagon and see if they have anything useful on them other than my daggers." I said to Kooraw as I got down from my own perch atop the wagon.

After stripping the bodies bare of anything worth money, I left them there in the road, a message to all other bandits who would come this way.

With the help of Kooraw, I also found their camp, not far from the road, and managed to make off with two more horses and a few other goods they had amassed, including a bit more money.

"_Well, I'm really going to be in trouble if anyone finds out how much money I have now."_ I thought to Kooraw. _"Now you know why I avoid the stuff."_ was all Kooraw would say. Ha! As though he had any use for it anyway.

Without another pause, I drove my wagon toward the next village, wherever that may be. "How far ahead did you say it was?" I asked Kooraw for the fourth time that day. _"As the Raven flies, not so far, but for you, maybe a camp is in order!" _Kooraw taunted.

"Maybe you're right." I said. "I'll probably just get into trouble at a tavern anyway." And with that, I pulled off the road a bit, and set up camp for the night. After setting up noise traps, I drifted off to sleep, and told Kooraw to wake me up if he heard anything.

Being that it was springtime, and being that I was on a fairly well traveled road in a quiet part of the country, the only thing I heard that night other than Kooraw talking with some noisy Owl was the distant braying of wolves. The horses weren't skittish though, so I wasn't too worried.

Upon the morning of the next day, I was rather surprised then, to awaken to the smell of a cooking fire. "You'd best hide that tattoo of yours, boy, if you wish to live to see twelve." came a voice out of my bleary-eyed stupor!


	7. Chapter Six, The Legacy

**Chapter Six, The Legacy**

"What? Who?" I said, trying to wake up and find a dagger in my coat at the same time, unsuccessfully, I might add.

"I took the liberty of disarming you, just in case you are who I think you are." the voice said, and after rubbing my eyes to clear them, I saw a man, dressed in greens and browns, sitting across the smoldering ashes of my campfire.

"Who are you?" I asked. "And _what the hell is _Kooraw_ doing on your shoulder?"_ I asked in an incredulous voice, more at Kooraw than at the man. "A fine warning bird you are!" I said in disgust.

Kooraw, having none of it, simply said, "Bah, he brought me fresh berries!" and with that, he flew off to find a perch to eat his newfound treat.

The man, now that I looked at him, had rather interesting features. For one, he seemed to be a half elf, for his ears, though not as large and pointed as an elf's, were definitely pointed. He was lean, as though he had lived his whole life outdoors walking, and wore rather well-traveled leathers. His human heritage was shown, however, in the rather long brown handlebar mustache he sported upon his tanned face.

With piercing green eyes, he stared at me, weighing me as much as I weighed him, and we didn't speak for several moments. Finally, he broke the silence, and said, "I knew your Grandfather, boy, and was on my way to find you. It seems I have succeeded."

The memory of my Grandfather's death fresh in my mind yet again, I lashed out. "Well, you missed his funeral pyre many months ago!"

"Yes, and I am most disappointed about that, but some things cannot be changed in life, as you will learn in time." he said, unshaken. "Besides, being that I was two continents away, I feel as though I made rather good time to this backwater province. Though I am rather surprised you've decided to venture out so soon." he explained. "I expected to find you still on the… farm." he said, as though the concept was foreign to him.

"Who are you?" I asked.

"My name is Dusk Sandsong." he replied. "And you must be Umbra. At least, that's what your Grandfather said in his letter some five years ago. I see you've grown up quick, not surprising though, being that I knew your Grandfather." Dusk continued.

"How did you know my Grandfather had died?" I asked, coming to realize that it was a closely guarded secret that only myself and my neighbors knew, and they had only been told recently.

"A little bird told me…" Dusk said with a half-smile, looking up toward where Kooraw was perched, innocently poking his long black beak into the berries.

I gasped. "Oh…" I was all I could say. "But, Kooraw hasn't flown…" I began.

"No, but his kind are the best at getting information to travel over long distances without being tracked via magical means." Dusk said, my realization at this new information dawning.

"For your own good!" Kooraw piped in. "Young bird, no nest, bad luck." He said in his scratchy Raven voice. I knew he was right, but my pride refused to listen to the logic right away. Dusk merely chuckled at the bird's use of the common tongue.

"I'll not go back to the farm…" I started.

"Good." Dusk cut in. "Then we can go back where I have come from, back to your legacy. After all, it has been quite some time since Sharapuur has seen the likes of you…" Dusk stated, a grin growing on his face as my eyes began to widen.


	8. Chapter Seven, The Lost Throne

**Chapter Seven, The Lost Throne**

"Sharapuur!" I blurted.

"Perhaps we should discuss this over breakfast…" Dusk suggested, gathering together the coals and some fresh firewood. I could only nod at the notion, standing up, stretching, to put away my gear. Soon, stew and flatbread were steaming away. After we sat down, Dusk related one of his many tales of his homeland to me.

"Sharapuur, Umbra, is a complex land. A land of few resources, burning deserts, sandstone, and uncivilized areas the size of this continent. It is not a place to be taken lightly." Dusk related.

"I gathered as much from my Grandfather's books." I replied. "More than half of the poisonous snakes and lizards in his journals are from Sharapuur."

"You're correct. Only the jungle continent of Oona has more poisonous snakes and insects. But unlike Oona, Sharapuur has almost no fresh water on the surface. In some places, the sand is the only thing to be seen in every direction for many miles." Dusk explained.

"And Grandfather used to live there? Even before he destroyed the Kingdom of Sauvin?" I asked.

"Ahh, I see he has related his last, and most famous, tale to you." was all Dusk could say for a moment, before recovering. "Yes, he grew up there, in the stinging sands and burning heat. It is where I met him, and your parents." Dusk revealed.

"You knew my parents?!" I couldn't hold back my anticipation.

"Briefly, yes." Dusk replied, waving back my questioning look. "I met them as they were leaving to live here. Your mother was carrying you at the time, and they rightly feared for your health, and their own. Your father wanted nothing to do with your Grandfather, and saw to it that he and your mother moved to a part of the world far away from war and politics." Dusk explained, opening his hands to show the forest around him as an example.

"Of course, your Grandfather was saddened at this, and decided he might try to give up his calling in life, that he might come to know his grandchild…" Dusk looked at me emphatically. "But then, I guess Otto and his band found your parents anyway…" at this, Dusk became silent.

"And then my Grandfather raised me. But I wonder why they didn't kill me too…" I wondered, questioning the logic.

"Probably because your Grandfather got to them before they could finish…" Dusk prompted.

"Oh! Yeah, I guess that's possible." I said, letting this newfound possibility sink in.

"He then decided to stay and raise you as his own, of course, which caused several very interesting events to transpire in Sharapuur." Dusk continued, after I looked at him again.

"Events?" I asked.

"Well, you can't just pick up and leave a country you rule by force of will and not expect a power struggle to ensue." Dusk chuckled at this. "Maybe the old bastard did it on purpose…" Dusk said all of a sudden, coming to some kind of realization. "Hmm…" he said, looking at me in a new light. "Well, regardless, the past is the past, and the future is the future. But I'll tell you this; You'd better hone those killing skills of yours if you plan on living long enough to claim back your lost throne…" Dusk said, and with that, he stood up to clear away breakfast.


	9. Chapter Eight, The Assassin's Son

**Chapter Eight, The Assassin's Son**

"What!? I have to claim a throne?" I asked, taken off guard by that last statement.

"Yes, you know, the throne your Grandfather left wide open for every Warlord in Sharapuur to fight over. By disposing of every known King and Queen in Sharapuur, he made himself King by Right of Combat. You know, "The Strong Survive" and all of that. He was the Anti-King, The Usurper, The Shadow-Spinner, The Most Famous Assassin in all the Realms. I thought he told you that, or that you figured it out.

Your Grandfather single-handedly destroyed every Kingdom on the continent, then left it to do what it will. An open-air power struggle ensued to fill the void your Grandfather created, devastating the entire continent in the process, making Sharapuur the wild frontier it is today.

Everyone wants in on it. The metals, the minerals, the land, even the magic. Every nation in the world has a colony there now, albeit a small one threatened by the monsters who were free to roam after the armies all left or were destroyed in the wars that followed." Dusk iterated, telling me the status of a nation I had only heard bad things about, and had never considered the outcome or consequences of what my Grandfather had done.

My mind began to race. What did it mean to be an Assassin's Son? _The_ Assassin's Son. I wasn't ready! Dusk was right about that. I didn't even know the first thing about walking the Shadow Plane, much less what it took to reclaim a throne I supposedly had rights to, and I wasn't even sure I wanted it if I did. It was simply too much at the time for my young mind to comprehend. Ah, the blessings of youth…

"I know by the look on your face, you're not prepared, and I didn't expect you would be." Dusk said, as he saved me from my thoughts of doom. "First, you must train. Then, _if_ you live through it, _maybe_ I'll take you to Sharapuur." he said with a wry grin. "But first, let's get out of here before folks find those dead bandits and start associating us with them." And with that, we packed up the wagon and headed west for what Dusk assured me was "A small Elven village near the mountains of the Frozen Kingdom of Vost."

"Great… Sounds nice and warm." came my sarcastic reply later that day on the road.

"Honestly, I'm sure you'll like it. These Elves there don't let morals get in the way of methods. They're some of the best fighters in the realm, and some of the wildest. The closest thing you'll find to the people of Sharapuur, but more civil by half." he assured me. "Though their dress and some of their rituals can be a bit strange at times…" he said, more to himself than to me.

"_Just want I need, Elven savages." _I thought to Kooraw, who had just flown in from his most recent scouting foray. _"Bet they know where the best berries grow…"_ Kooraw thought back, food always on his mind. _"That, and they probably speak Raven."_ came another ponderous reply. _"Or eat Raven…"_ I thought back to him with a chuckle as he ruffled his feathers up. _"Bah! Doesn't taste near as good as roasted man-child!" _Kooraw jabbed back, and I couldn't help but laugh, which solicited a raised eyebrow from Dusk at my seemingly random outburst.


	10. Chapter Nine, Shadow Hunter

**Chapter Nine, Shadow Hunter**

"Why is your last name Sandsong, Dusk?" I asked one day as we were riding to the Elven village, apparently called "Treehomn" in common.

"It's because I'm from Sharapuur, where the black sands of the Shoora blow across the land, creating a strange wail as they go. "Dusk" fits my profession, but I was actually born at dusk, which is why my parents named me such.

Haven't you ever considered your name, Umbra? It does mean "Shadow," after all. And your last name you took from your father, "Theron", not your Grandfather. It's from Durghost, is it not?" Dusk asked.

"As far as I know." was all I could say, for honestly I knew very little of my parents.

"Well, I guess it's not that bad." Dusk said. "Theron means "hunter", if I'm not mistaken, and that actually fits fairly well for an assassin-to-be…" he said with an Evil grin. "It could go two ways, "Shadow-Hunter", a perfect fit." he continued, as I pondered the possible dual meaning behind my name, which I had not examined until now. "Just be sure you know who's side you're on when the time comes." Dusk said cryptically. All I could do was nod at this newest revelation.


	11. Chapter Ten, Treehomn

**Chapter Ten, Treehomn**

"How long until we arrive in Treehomn?" I asked Dusk four days later. "It really is out here in the woods, far away from everything, isn't it?" I complained, mentioning the fact that we hadn't seen a road or even a goat trail in days, having abandoned the wagon two days ago, covering it in underbrush.

While alternating between riding and leading the new horses along had been rather simple, the trip itself had thus far been completely uneventful. It was all together unexciting since the episode with the highwaymen, and I was beginning to doubt that I would see any excitement at all for at least another few days.

"Only one more night." Dusk said, checking the wind, the directions, landmarks, and what he said were clear markers pointing the way, though I failed to see anything different from one boring tree to the next.

"Besides that, they've been following us for days." Dusk suddenly whispered in my ear when I walked up close to see a leaf he was inspecting. "Haven't you heard or seen them?" He quietly asked.

"Really?!" I said, a bit too loudly, starting to look around.

"Yes. This leaf is indeed a Birchwood leaf." Dusk said in a normal voice, standing up to show it to me, recovering from my blunder. "Not much use for herbs, but excellent wood for making boats." he continued, drawing my eyes to focus on his with a slight warning.

At that, I finally took the hint and said, "Oh, I thought the bark was good for making healing salves." I said, playing his game while carefully looking around to see if I could find any sign of our followers, to no avail.

"Well then, let's continue, shall we? We need to get there during daylight, lest the Elves of Treehomn wonder why we're wandering into their wood unannounced, for they need to know we mean them no harm." Dusk said, loud enough for anyone within arrow distance to hear.

With that, our followers knew we had discovered them, and they wasted no time in coming out from their respective hiding places, no less than twenty feet from where we stood!

Even Kooraw was surprised to see a particularly leafy bush turn into an elf covered in clothes that made him look like nothing more than a forest bush! I would have laughed at his reaction had I not seen the unmistakable look on the elf's face, one that brooked no amusement, bur rather a telltale sign that he would kill us where we stand if we made even the slightest movement for our weapons.

At this moment, I felt the tattoo begin to twitch and writhe under my shirt, but fought it off with the knowledge that these elves were merely guarding their territory and homes from unannounced visitors.

Upon closer inspection of this potentially dangerous new opponent, the trained part of my brain made mental notes as my eyes took him in from head to toe.

This elf was about a hand shorter than Dusk, probably twenty or thirty pounds lighter, but lean and full of methodical movement in his quick muscles. He looked young, of course, not as young as me, but possibly in his twenties. Elves, of course, age differently than us humans do, but I have to base my experience on something!

He was wearing greens, browns, and grays. His clothing was, well, savage! And looked like it had been made by a wild seamstress who killed the animal right before she sewed it back together for clothes! There were all manner of leaves, sticks, brambles, and other plants weaved about into his jerkin, breeches, and boots. In his tanned hands he held a rather strong looking bow, fitted with an arrow.

All of these details sank in, but it was his steady, fierce gaze from beneath his deep green eyes and his war-painted face that made shudder inwardly, knowing full well that I was very much in possible mortal danger!

Just as all of this was going through my mind, the elf spoke, "Uuma ma' ten' rashwe, ta tuluva a' lle." he said, holding his bow and arrow steadily, making sure neither Dusk nor I meant to fight.

To this, Dusk said, "Aa' lasser en lle coia orn n' omenta gurtha, Ooro. "

"Amin sinta lle?" the elf asked. I could tell by his inflection at the end of the statement.

"Dusk Sandsong." Dusk stated his name.

At this, the Elf lowered his bow with a surprised look, as if seeing Dusk for the first time again.

"A! Dusk Sandsong. Amin sinta thaliolle e dagor. Lle fiose amin." he said. And while I still didn't understand a word of the Elvish, I did understand that this elf knew of or had known Dusk, and with that, I breathed a sigh of relief.

"We were not expecting you so soon." the Elf said, switching to common. "Yes, I admit it is too soon, Ooro. But the Golden Asp has passed." Dusk explained, indicating me.

At this, the elf looked at me with a fresh perspective, whistled toward the woods, and knelt in front of me on one knee, his right hand over his chest, in a strange salute. "I am Ooro, Shadow's Son. Welcome to the Queendom of Our Lady Llylenwie Heartsleaf."

"Well met Oo-row." I said with a bow, pronouncing his name carefully. "I am Umbra Theron, and I have come for training."

With a rather surprised look to Dusk, who only nodded, Ooro stood up and motioned the other two elves of his scouting group who had been in hiding over to our position. They looked like living trees being that they were so covered in branches and leaves! And their wildly painted faces continued to surprise me.

"Well, Shadow's Son, don't keep us waiting!" Ooro said. "Let's see the Snake!" And with that, I made three new friends as I rolled up my sleeve to prove my heritage to these strange elves of the wild forest.


	12. Chapter Eleven, Taming the Shadow

**Chapter Eleven, Taming the Shadow**

"He is the Shadow's Son!" Ooro exclaimed to the tribal council that evening. "He bears the Serpent, and has come to us in need of training, for the Shadow died before his time, and has left us to train his heir." he continued to the group of elders who had convened to hear the situation of the boy.

"Yet we know what happened as a result of his Grandfather." the eldest councilmember, Rohanna Broadleaf, an elven woman almost a thousand years old, stated. "And he is so much like all of his lineage already." she continued, the lines around her eyes the only hint at her age. "Too powerful by far for such a short-lived race…" Rohanna trailed off, uncertainty and wonder held in her almond shaped lavender eyes.

"Perhaps, but that, and the Fall of Sharapuur, are none of our concern." Ooro stated, the grave statement punctuated by his wild war paint. "Sharapuur was set to fall whether The Shadow spun his web there or not." he said, to several consenting nods of agreement among most of the council members present.

"Then at least train him to restrain his emotions somewhat. For it was unrequited love and a healthy dose of pride that sent Sharapuur headlong into the flood of war." Rohanna countered. "And by all means, don't hold back in his training, for if he dies here by honest means, then the world may yet be a better place for us all." she said coldly.

"Yes, but first, we must teach him to tame the Shadow." Ooro said quietly, to many looks of silent knowing all around.

Of course, I wasn't present to hear these things spoken about me, for I was being held below the village in the trees, on the forest floor, waiting for the deliberation of Treehomn to conclude. But then, as he has so many times in the past, Kooraw was there. Perched on a branch outside one of the council's windowsills, unnoticed, patiently listening to it all.

The conclusion was forgone, however, for the entire council decided it would be wise to train me to undertake the task of "Taming the Shadow", as it were. Though I have never forgotten those warnings so plainly given, which may be the reason I'm in the predicament I'm in today, but I digress…

Kooraw relayed the information to me later that night, a while after I had been confirmed as part of the tribe, along with Dusk, who already was. When Kooraw informed me via our telepathic link, I was at first a bit shocked. But then, gradually, I came to understand and respect Rohanna's position, and made another vow: "To never make the same mistake grandfather made by running from the consequences of my actions."

Oh, if I could only go back to that day and take away that vow! Well, no help in lamenting having thrown your last dagger, I suppose… but again, I digress…

For then, it was time for my rather vigorous training at the hands of an entire tribe of Wild Elves from the North, near to the Mountains of Vost. Those were nine rather long years, indeed.


	13. Chapter Twelve, Dae’fara

**Chapter Twelve, "Dae'fara"**

At first, the training was very straight forward. Dusk was by my side for most of it, obviously doing his best to protect me, making sure that his newfound charge didn't die in some useless "training accident" as he called it. And Kooraw, ever faithful, ever watchful, was also by my side, silently calling out mental warnings whenever a random beast or other dangerous animal was nearby.

As I grew, I realized that I was indeed a rather quick learner. Being human, after all, must have it's strengths, for I believe we learn quickly out of need. More because of our short lifespan than anything else, I guess. Of course, the opposite could be said, and in my case quite true, that we make up for our quick wit by being impulsive and stupid on as many occasions.

Thankfully, none of those occasions has gotten me killed, yet.

The days flew by, while training in the woods with Dusk and the others. I was trained in all of the finest of the silent arts. Sleight of hand, escape tactics, knot work, trap building, snares, hunting, stalking, tracking, following, scenting, mimicry, the silent language of hand code, poison use, weapon training, unarmed fighting, the works.

I also learned much of the political situation and maneuvering of the various Kingdoms and Queendoms of the world. Though I was in a very small village in the middle of the forest, the Elves are extremely good at communicating over large distances, and they taught me much of current events.

Each day heralded a new trainer from within the village. They trained me relentlessly, methodically, and thoroughly. Never letting me lose my edge, always keeping me off balance, until I learned to walk the razor thin dagger line like it was a wide open lane.

I could stalk and kill a deer with only a knife in my hand, and follow a mountain lion through a leaf strewn forest close enough to touch it's tail, all without it ever knowing.

It was during this time, I feel, that I began to become one with the Shadows. The ritual dances of the Wild Elves called to something deep within my spirit, and it was said that on many occasions even the bonfire light would often hide me as I danced in a Shadow Trance around it, making those around me wonder if I had left, only to reappear behind them, startling them into further motion.

It was as if I had to grow into it. Like putting on a shirt that was once too big but now fit. A state of mind I found myself quietly reaching into every chance I could get. Whispers in the darkness around me, coaxing me to join them.

One night, I went to sleep in the shared house Dusk and I resided in, yet awoke to the sunrise some five miles away from the village on a hill in a meadow! It was at once the most profound and frightening experience I had ever encountered. I lied to Dusk, saying that I had snuck out of the house for some much needed free time and space. Though I know he didn't believe my story, he was kind enough not to say anything about it.

And then, one day, seemingly out of nowhere, I "walked."

It was like learning to walk as a child, I imagine. I saw a shadow in the trunk of a tree, and was thinking about what it would be like to rest there for a moment. After taking a step, and blinking, my next step was upon the trunk of that tree, well within the large shadow!

Of course, tripped and fell on the root of the base, and ended up having a rather nice rest in it after all.

After that, my "steps" grew larger and larger, and eventually, I could transverse many miles in the course of a day.

I never forgot what my Grandfather's journals had warned, however. "Do not tread the Shadow Path lightly, for darker things than the walker exist on the Shadow Plane to impede your path." Though they didn't mention exactly what those "things" were, I have always assumed the worst.

There was that, and the truest danger anyone who walks the Shadow plane could know, if you make a wrong step, you could end up dead, depending on where you were going.

Moving shadows, after all, are the most dangerous to transverse, and not something I have ever done lightly, so to speak.

It seems I had "paid the price", mentioned in my Grandfather's journals, by killing off those bandits after all. At least, those were the only people I had ever killed up until that point. After that, it must have simply been a matter of age or something.

I began walking the Shadow plane so much, that soon, the Elves actually called me by my name, as though I had finally earned it. Though it was said in Elven, "Dae'fara", the meaning stayed the same: "Shadow Hunter."

After that, Ooro took a particular interest in my training, as if to prove to Rohanna he was right in doing so. I believe he made the right choice, for though I am like my Grandfather in many ways, I am, after all, my own person, and I promised myself I would not use my skills to promote wonton destruction, but rather I would try to correct the situation my Grandfather had created in Sharapuur. _Of course_, I thought, _if people must die in order for me to achieve that goal, woe to them and theirs, for I shall not stay my knife hand._


	14. Chapter Thirteen, Shadow Brothers

**Chapter Thirteen, Shadow Brothers**

Up until now, Ooro had simply watched my training from afar. Kooraw would alert me whenever he was in the area, which was often, and would mentally "say", _"The Wild One is Watching…"_

"Wild One" indeed! For though his brethren are all the most unique people I've ever met, both in mentality and dress, such wild colors and paints!, Ooro was by far the strangest of the lot.

His chosen color of war paint matched his deep, forest green eyes. This day, a green hand-print covered his face. It looked as if someone had grabbed his face with their left hand and left a green mark! His wild long brown hair was braided into small braids that all ended in one larger braid, going down to the middle of his back. His mad capped, mismatched hide clothes, sewn from a variety of skins into odd shapes and patches, weaved their way across his lean form. His boots were of soft doeskin, and I noticed that whenever and wherever he walked, he never made a sound.

Oddly, it wasn't until this day that I noticed that he too had a tattoo upon his arm. Probably because this was the first day he wasn't dressed in his long sleeved jerkin, but instead a hide vest.

It was a pure black tattoo of a snake! And it wound it's way from his right wrist around his arm, ending at the shoulder. It was completely different than my tattoo, of course, which is small and full-color, the golden serpent scales glittering in the sun, but I got the feeling that he and I made a sort of strange pair standing there.

For I had grown over the last few years during my training, both in height and weight, but also in my outlook on life. I had gone completely from "Man-child to Two-leg", as Kooraw put it. I had now seen seventeen winters, and could sense that I was nearing the completion of my training with these wild elves of the forest, though no one had said as much yet.

"Dae'fara, today you will begin your training with me. It will last for three winters, and should you live through it, you and I will be "Dae'tororim", Shadow Brothers." Ooro said, looking in my eyes for a reaction. I feel I masked my surprise well, and covered it with a contemplative arched eyebrow, one I had seen him use on the council before. This solicited a smile from him, a sort of half-grin on the right side of his mouth.

"But first, I must teach you to _dance_ rather than to merely walk." he stated, matter of fact. At this, I smiled, and waited in tense anticipation for the lesson. Then, as if I wasn't even there to watch, Ooro _vanished into thin air! _


	15. Chapter Fourteen, In Plain Sight

**Chapter Fourteen, In Plain Sight**

It was daytime in the forest, with several shadows about, so I immediately looked around me in a full circle, waiting for him to appear out of one of them.

I know he didn't cast a spell of invisibility, as I had been taught that already. He didn't even move! One second he was standing there, and the next, he was gone!

To my amazement, and much to my later frustration at attempting the maneuver, Ooro had just shown me how to hide _in plain sight_! For as I spun around in a complete circle, looking for him, I came back to the position I had been standing in, and he was still there!

After considering this for a moment, I began to understand, though I first accused him of using an illusion.

"No, Umbra, not an illusion. I merely wrapped myself in the nearby shadows, forcing your eyes to see nothing." Ooro explained. "For one who can already walk through the Shadows, though not yet dance or jump, I would have thought you would have figured it out by now. Of course, I have seen you do it before, without knowing, but now you have seen another do it, and in so learning, can actively attempt it on your own…" he explained.

"Yes", I said, "I shall attempt this method…", as I thought about what it feels like to try to hide from view. Pretending Ooro was the great forest cat I had so often tormented, I ran off, and began to circle him in a wide arch. All the while, Ooro stood in place, never moving, eyes closed.

When I had come full circle around him for the third time from the opposite direction in which I started, he opened his eyes, and said, "Congratulations, I cannot see you." Then, with a wide grin, he pointed his finger directly at what I thought was my _unseen_ nose. "However, I can still hear you breathing, and you still smell like the deer you ate for breakfast." he said with a chuckle.

At that, I lost my concentration and popped back into view, based on the knowing look Ooro gave me. "Well then," I said, with a sniff at my jerkin and a chuckle, "I guess I'll just have to work on that." at this, Ooro couldn't help but smile.


	16. Chapter Fifteen, Dae’toror, Dae’salka, M...

**Chapter Fifteen, Dae'toror, Dae'salka, Mal-loki**

"Good, Dae'toror," Ooro said as he called me by his personal nickname for me, "Shadow Brother", "for this is the first step in the Dae'salka. The Shadow Dance." he explained. "Which is why most of our kind choose to eat only plants, including the dangerous ones." Ooro said. "For animals can smell animal flesh easier than they can smell the plants we eat. Even cooked plants." Ooro taught. "It would be wise for us to begin your herb training and poison consumption today."

"Eating poison!?" I asked, "but wouldn't that kill me?"

"Not so, Dae'toror, for if you eat but a little each day, you will become immune to certain kinds." Ooro said, calming me a bit. "I will also teach you to cure a hide with plants, so the smell of the hides will not give away your position." Ooro said, holding up the edge of his hide vest.

"That, and you shall receive the honor of choosing a color today!" Ooro said in a congratulatory way, as though I should be proud, so I smiled. Though at the time I didn't know what in the world he was talking about.

At this, Ooro let out a great hoot and holler toward the woods, raising his bow high in the air and the Elves of the village all came running toward us! Upon reaching our position, they began chanting "Dae'fara!, Dae'fara! Mal-loki! Mal-loki!", Shadow Hunter! Shadow Hunter! Golden Snake! Golden Snake!, and they picked me up in a group upon their shoulders and led me back toward the village and the council tree-house, whereupon that night I was to receive my right of passage and inclusion into the tribe.

Though I am honor-bound not to discuss the ceremony, I can say that it was the most interesting I had ever been a part of, and that the color the tribe chose for me was almost a forgone conclusion, for they chose Golden Yellow to represent my spirit. Just as I knew they would…


	17. Chapter Sixteen, Ooro’s Tale

**Chapter Sixteen, Ooro's Tale**

After learning to witness the Shadow Dance, the next step was to attempt to join in. This took several months of constant practice, as the shadows themselves are constantly shifting. Though I first began in areas of large shadows at night, for sake of safety, I slowly began to learn the movements required to move about the larger shadows during the daylight hours.

Dusk and Kooraw could only watch in rapt amazement at my progress, and even Ooro assured me that "No Elven pupil has ever learned the Dae'salka as quickly as you have."

"Though I'm not surprised, for your grandfather was a master, and it was he who taught me." Ooro confided in me one day, which stopped me in my tracks as surely as any blade!

"My grandfather… taught you?" I asked after regaining my composure after the initial shock.

"Yes, it was he who saved both Dusk and I from our joined fates in Sharapuur. He did not relate the tale to you?" Ooro asked, his arched eyebrow showing his surprise as readily as his questioning look at Dusk, who shook his head slightly to indicate the subject had not come up until now.

"Well, perhaps it is time we relate our tale to you, young Dae'fara, for there are many interesting points to tell. Many of which may help in the days to come." Ooro said.

"Come, we shall discuss this over our evening meal." Dusk said, ever one to discuss more complex matters of life while enjoying the bounties of the good life. And at that, I could not agree more.


	18. Chapter Seventeen, The TriallMaranwe

**Chapter Seventeen, The Triall-Maranwe**

We sat, and after Dusk delved into his second favorite pastime, food, Ooro related to us his tale…

"…Members of our tribe, you included, Umbra, reach a point in their lives when their color is revealed to them. This color then becomes part of their aura, their spirit, and is carried with them for the rest of their days, whether they choose to accept it or not." Ooro said, elaborating on my previous ceremony, though I believe he was remembering his at this time, "Soon thereafter, that person then partakes in a "triall-maranwe ', or destiny-walk, as it's commonly called."

"A sort of quest?" I asked, intrigued by this notion, this right of passage, as it were.

"Yes, it could be called that. Usually, each is different, reflecting the nature of the person undertaking the task. Every member of our tribe who carries a color has undertaken the triall-maranwe, everyone, that is, save you, though your time draws near." Ooro explained. "It was during this time in my life that I met your grandfather," Ooro said, and after looking at me for a few moments, continued, "and he could not have been much older than you are now, though with his upbringing, I feel he was much more angry at the world than you seem to be."

Ooro paused, letting me dwell on this for a moment, before continuing, "And I met him not here, in the wilds of my homeland, but like Dusk, we met under the burning Sun of Sharapuur, where the stinging desert winds whip their way across the land."

"Your grandfather, perhaps a year or two older than you, though it is hard for me as an elf to say, was living in what was at the time the Kingdom of Sauvin. A goodly King, as I recall, though fatally misguided. You have heard the tales, yes?" Ooro asked, and I simply nodded.

"Yes, well, he wasn't the most memorable of Kings, but he did what he thought was right by his people. His Queen died in childbirth, bearing his only daughter, the beautiful Princess Orowina." Ooro chuckled at this, and said, "Well, at least her name held merit." he said, obviously referring to the similarity in his name and hers.

"At any rate, your grandfather was completely smitten by her, from the day he saw her in a parade, with her long Raven black hair."

At this, Kooraw, who had been quiet until now, started chirping quietly to himself, as though happy with the remark. I smiled and looked up to him as Ooro continued.

"She was much the same age as him at the time, as I recall," Ooro related, "and from that day forward, your Grandfather made it his business to become powerful enough to draw her attention."

"Why did I meet your Grandfather? You may ask. Well, the reason is simple, really, I needed to purchase a new dagger, as I had just broken mine on a rock fighting one of those damndable piranha-lizards that roam the deserts in packs, and your Grandfather was already renown throughout the region as the best dagger maker in the area." Ooro looked at my dagger after this and said, "And I see his heritage has carried on with you."

It was true that I had studied my Grandfather's journals in my spare time, at least, those that I took with me, and one of those included the making of various types of daggers. Though I felt that my skills reached no where near the quality of those like the Fang dagger I found under my Grandfather's floorboards.

"Nah, this one is one of his, and the one next to it is mine, you can see I still have much to learn." I said to Ooro, holding each of them out hilt-first that he might inspect them. Dusk took a sudden interest in the conversation at this point, and stood up to take his turn holding them after Ooro had held each.

"I don't believe you give yourself enough credit, Umbra, yours is just as fine, if completely different. You merely have a different style, is all." Ooro complimented my work, and Dusk also nodded his assent.

Though I disagreed, having never felt on the same level as my Grandfather, I remained quiet at this, and merely shrugged. Dusk then returned my daggers to me, and Ooro continued.

"As I said, he was one of the best dagger makers around, and after meeting him, I felt that my triall-maranwe had something to do with him." Ooro explained. "So, I made it a habit to "stick around a while", as I've heard it called, if only to share your Grandfather's company and to see if I couldn't figure out this strange human somewhat.

"It wasn't long after that when fate found us, rather than us finding it." Ooro said cryptically.


	19. Chapter Eighteen, The Shadow’s Shadow

**Chapter Eighteen, The Shadow's Shadow**

"Your Grandfather and I worked together after that. Being somewhat proficient myself at the art of woodworking, my craft complimented his for a variety of weapon styles, and allowed him to expand his brisk business into the realm of bows, arrows, and other ranged weapons, including darts and melee weapons of a more subtle sort." Ooro confided.

'A more subtle sort?" I asked.

"Yes, you know, the hidden-cane longsword, the bladed lute, the retractable spear, and a wide variety of other exotic weapons we will cover in your training. One can turn almost anything into a thrown weapon, as well as hide a blade or other useful object in the most mundane looking object. It's an excellent skill to have in a country where open weapons are illicit, and one that no Assassin should be without…" Ooro said, while an evil looking grin began to spread across his wild, war-painted features.

"So he was already a member of the Golden Serpent?" I asked, unable to contain my interest any longer.

"Yes, he had already undergone the necessary training, and was chosen by them for his hidden trade, as it was discovered by a former member of the guild that he had the natural ability to Shadow Walk." Ooro explained.

"A former member?" I asked. "But doesn't the Golden Serpent guild make you a member for life? I mean, isn't the only way out, death?" I asked, having earlier read up on my heritage through my Grandfather's tomes.

"Exactly." Ooro stated with finality. "Your Grandfather became "a Shadow's Shadow", for he killed the Assassin sent to kill him, who was a member of the Golden Serpent. It was shortly thereafter that he was indoctrinated into the Guild. I was there when it happened." Ooro said, trying to explain, but only confusing me more.

Seeing the confused look on my face, Ooro explained further, "You see, Umbra, your Grandfather created weapons for a living. Often times, those weapons were created unknowingly for Assassins, including Guilds who were opposed to the Golden Serpent. After they found out who had made a particularly nasty dagger called "The Glass Tooth", they sent an Assassin to kill the maker. For the dagger, which is made of glass, and injects poison after breaking off into the victim, had killed someone important to the Golden Serpent, and they couldn't afford to have it happen again." Ooro continued.

"After trying to assassinate your Grandfather, they realized his potential as a member, and withdrew their attempts to slay him." Ooro said. "A favorite saying of mine, one which you may know well, is, "If you cannot kill him, recruit him." Does that sound familiar?" Ooro said with a smile.

Indeed it was, and it explained much, for I had always wondered how my Grandfather had joined the Guild, as his notes never mentioned it.


	20. Chapter Nineteen, The Death of Dusk Sand...

**Chapter Nineteen, The Death of Dusk Sandsong**

"This is where my part in the story comes in." Dusk Sandsong, who had been quiet unto now, joined in. "Yes, it was at this time that Dusk joined your Grandfather and I." Ooro agreed.

"Your Grandfather was approached by the Golden Serpent by way of a half elven messenger." Dusk said, smiling at the reference to himself. "Of course, at the time I had no idea what the message contained, but your Grandfather was… surprised." Dusk continued, wearing a wry grin.

"Surprised is putting it lightly." Ooro said to Dusk with a smile.

"Well, it's not like I knew!" Dusk said with a silent chuckle.

"He almost killed Dusk for delivering the message." Ooro explained to me, noticing the obviously confused look on my face.

"Ohh!" I said, finally understanding.

"At any rate, to apologize, your Grandfather nursed me back to health." Dusk said, a distant look on his face. "And I'll be damned if I ever get used to Black Adder poison!" Dusk said after a moment, which solicited a laugh from both Ooro and I.

"It's not the dying that bothers me so much, but the itching that comes from the healing potion you have to drink for a week afterward!" Dusk said, joining in.

"After realizing that I had nothing to do with the guild other than as a messenger, your Grandfather swore never to kill me again." Dusk said, grinning.

"You died?" I said in disbelief, for I had thought he was just temporarily poisoned.

"Indeed." Dusk said, a sort of peaceful look coming across his features just then. "I did die, and for a while at that!" Dusk said.

"It wasn't that long. Only fifteen minutes…" Ooro said, trying to sound nonchalant about the whole affair.

"Well, let's just say I'm lucky your Grandfather decided I was innocent." Dusk said to me with a smile. "After my resuscitation, your Grandfather, Ooro, and I became fast friends."

With a laugh, Ooro said, "Your first words were, "It must have been bad news!"

Dusk only nodded, then said, "In some ways, I believe it was…"

All of us grew silent at that. For indeed, though the story of their meetings told me volumes about my Grandfather's history, it did little to soothe the pain of what happened to Sharapuur after he left, and for my benefit, it would seem…


End file.
